


Itch

by Bookkbaby



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-11
Updated: 2012-11-11
Packaged: 2017-11-18 10:02:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/559756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bookkbaby/pseuds/Bookkbaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole and neither would anyone else down here, unless you think your ass is worth a smiting.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Itch

Dean poked the small campfire with a stick, scowling at the dimly-glowing embers beneath it and trying to ignore the  _itch_.

He’d been in Purgatory two months, near as he could figure, and he hadn’t gotten laid since well before Dick exploded and landed him in this place. Small wonder he was pent-up.

He shot a wary glance over at Benny, who was keeping watch. While he wasn’t entirely certain he trusted the vampire, they’d fought back to back five times and Benny hadn’t let him down yet. It was a fragile trust and while Dean wouldn’t call them friends, there was an understanding there. It helped to have a second person watch his back, since Cas was gone, God-knew-where.

Dean swallowed and stared at the fire again.

Men were not his thing, or at least, they hadn’t ever been until a blue-eyed dude in a trenchcoat walked into a barn and changed Dean’s life forever. Dean had found himself becoming a bit more flexible in his tastes since then, though as a rule, he didn’t fuck guys and didn’t allow them to fuck him. It was all messy handjobs and blowjobs in the bar’s bathroom or the alley out back, eyes closed and lip bit to keep the name Dean wanted to say from spilling over his tongue.

At least Benny wasn’t bad looking, though Dean’s options here were severely limited and his own hand just wasn’t cutting it anymore. He needed someone else’s touch.

Dean put down the stick and took a deep breath.

“Benny,” he began, but Benny cut him off with a shake of his head.

“I know what you’re going to ask and my answer is no,” he said. “I wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole and neither would anyone else down here, unless you think your ass is worth a smiting.”

Dean frowned, equal parts confusion and irritation that he’d be spending another night with just his hand for company.

“What do you mean?” he asked. Benny sighed and leaned forward on the rock he’d been sitting on, one hand on his knee and the other reaching up to tap a finger against his temple.

“The Leviathans weren’t the only ones that got an information download when we were milling about inside that angel,” he said. He tapped his head again and let his hand drop. “Every  _thing_  down here knows everything about you, from how you look when you’re asleep to how you smell, and exactly how the angel would burn us into oblivion if he caught us sniffing around.” Benny shrugged. “Call me overly cautious, but even in Purgatory, I ain’t risking it. An angel’s still dangerous, even when it can’t reach Heaven.”

Dean looked down, heart suddenly tripping over itself in his chest.

“You make it sound like he’s jealous or something,” Dean said, forcing a strangled chuckle out of his throat. Benny returned the laugh with even less humor.

“Of course he is,” he replied, leaving the ‘you absolute moron’ unsaid. “And unlike humans, he can actually quietly warn off monsters and angels. Joke’s on him, though, since you’d never sleep with something not human.” Benny gave him a wolfish grin. “Unless you’re desperate or she’s fallen and willing to ignore the ‘hands off’ sign he branded to your arm.”

Dean’s hand immediately flew to his shoulder, right where he’d worn the burn mark for months before Cas had healed it completely.

“You’re lying,” Dean bit out. Benny was quiet for a long moment, then, to Dean’s surprise, he started laughing.

“You want it so badly that you think you can’t have it, don’t you? I’m no liar,” he said. “Do you want to fuck him, Dean?”

Dean glared at Benny but, out of words to say, he didn’t respond. He dropped his arm, realizing he was still holding onto the memory of the mark.

“Oh, no,” Benny continued, voice dropping, soft and gleeful. “It’s better than that, isn’t it? You—”

“Shut the hell up,” Dean hissed, face reddening with anger and embarrassment. Benny laughed again.

“I almost feel like I should be paying you to let me witness this little drama,” he said.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” Dean replied bitterly, picking up his stick again and jabbing the flames. Sparks flew.

“I’m serious,” Benny said, and for once he actually sounded it. “If you could’ve seen what that angel wanted to do to you-“

“I already told you to shut it,” Dean growled. He was desperately curious, but knew that the most dangerous thing to have was hope and if he started hoping that Cas might… anything, he’d be hurt when they located Cas and Dean found out the hard way that Benny had been messing with his head. He might grudgingly trust Benny with his life, since in Purgatory he had no other options and since it hadn’t come back to bite him on the ass yet, but this was something he wasn’t even sure he’d trust Sam with.

“He wanted to make you his in every way he was already yours,” Benny said, tone deceptively light for the weight of the words. Dead silence fell, for in Purgatory, there are no crickets to fill awkward silences.

“What, so he wants to make me his bitch?” Dean asked, again bitter and angry and hating himself because he knows he’d take it anyway because it was Cas. He ran a hand through his hair. “Great. Yeah, that’s  _definitely_  good news. I’m just so fucking gorgeous he wanted to go and get himself a piece, huh?”

Benny chuckled.

“Am I seriously listening to you bitch that an angel of the Lord only wants you for your body?” he asked. “And that’s not what I said, idiot. You really think that angel was after something that carnal?”

“What do you mean?” Dean asked defensively. Benny heaved a sigh of long suffering.

“Think, Dean,” he said. “He rebelled, got himself killed, stuck with you when you were all gung-ho about killing Lucifer, got killed again, and then he  _let you go_  because he thought you’d be happier without him. He fought a war to keep you safe, lied to you to keep you out of it, and stayed away in hopes you wouldn’t be a target.” Benny shrugged. “That’s the end of my knowledge, but it doesn’t sound like something you’d do to impress a fuckbuddy, no matter how pretty.”

“Start making sense or can it already,” Dean muttered, shifting uncomfortably. Had the ground always been this hard and cold?

“Fine, I’ll spell it out for you,” Benny said, matching Dean in ire. “He wants you to love him as much as he lo-“

Dean stood abruptly.

“I’m going to get more firewood,” he said, turning on his heel and stomping off, one hand automatically checking for the weapon he had taken off of a vamp the day he met Benny.

“See if I ever try to help you again,” Benny called, irritated.

Dean gritted his teeth and kept walking, hands clenching into fists at his side. Benny could take his ‘help’ and shove it.

He wouldn’t believe Benny. He wouldn’t.

But deep inside, a tiny sprout of hope began to grow, and Dean couldn’t stop wondering ‘what if Benny was telling the truth?’

* * *

 

They found Cas not a week later, surrounded by a pack of what looked like dogs, if dogs could grow to be three times Dean’s height and breathed fire. Dean had met these things a few times before, but never all in a pack like this, and they were a bitch to take down.

Cas, however, was holding his own, trenchcoat and scrubs bloody and torn, face covered in dirt, movements more efficient than beautiful. Dean didn’t even hesitate; he threw himself into the fight, taking one beast by surprise and slitting its throat before it even knew he was there.

The fight was short, brutal, and ended when the last two wounded beasts ran off. Dean watched them go, sweating and breathing heavily, three scratches bleeding sluggishly on one of his forearms.

“Dean.”

The voice was soft, stunned, and almost reverent. Dean recognized it instantly and felt the sound settle around him like a familiar jacket.

He took a deep breath, steeled himself, and turned to face Cas.

“Hey, Cas,” he said. Cas was standing mere feet away, expression unguarded and eyes wide to drink Dean in, like he couldn’t stop staring. Dean felt his heart skip.

Then Cas lifted his eyes to meet Dean’s and Dean saw in them everything he’d always wanted to find, but had never dared search for. It was all there, everything Cas felt, and a wave of heat passed through Dean, centered in his chest rather than between his legs.

There were questions he wanted to ask, things he and Cas needed to discuss, but for this, he’d waited long enough. He grabbed the lapels of Castiel’s ratty, dirty old trenchcoat, pulled him forward, and kissed him.

Cas tensed and made a muffled noise of surprise. Dean let his eyes slide shut and poured what he felt into the kiss, trying to say without words what it was Cas needed to hear.

Cas shivered, breathed in, and relaxed, his arms coming up behind Dean and then clutching at him as Cas let himself go. The moment was somehow horribly wrong and perfect all at once; their first kiss, in the middle of Purgatory, bloody and exhausted and surrounded by the corpses of five fire-breathing dogs.

Dean wouldn’t have traded it for the world.

END


End file.
